The devil is in the details. Pay attention.
DEVLIN
So much for a fresh start.
A few weeks in, and already my emotions got the best of me.
The farther I got from the rehearsal space, the less anxiety tied my tongue. My faults made me weak. The bandana hid my flushed cheeks, but the heat was getting unbearable. As soon as I was alone, I’d pull it down to breathe deep again. I’d go home, swim some laps, work the concerto, and everything would level out.
The anxiety management techniques came when the first symphony spread the rumors I’d been fired for my anger issues. Despite my best intentions at the start of each day, my nerves had me living up to those expectations. My inability to address the lack of respect between the musicians only ratcheted up my feelings of powerlessness. Carla didn’t think I’d heard her barb. I should have called her out rather than announcing the chair auditions so bluntly. Music I could control. My own words and emotions were trickier. Rather than accept this fault in my system, I gathered my anger. I focused on the things that pissed me off.
The SOOK wasn’t playing up to their potential. The previous conductor held chair auditions before his retirement simply as a way to leave his mark of authority; a final power play. Old practices and deep-seated nepotism were just some of the issues with the current symphony. If I wanted to prove myself, these would all need to be corrected.
Which brought my thoughts back to Kim. They strayed there often lately.
Kim hadn’t given me her answer.Christine, I corrected internally. Hadn’t she learned that I wasn’t a patient man? I’d told her I wouldn’t wait forever and that the position would go to someone else. But it was a lie. It had to be her.
My mind drifted to last week. I’d stayed behind in my secret office to work through some stress. Notes had floated in through the vents sending chills up my arms. When I’d glanced through the register, I’d seen her. In that moment, everything had been revealed to me. Who Christine Day really was. The magic in her playing was still as strong as ever. Her talents were unbounded, if only she’d share them. The music had swirled and consumed me like a cool mist. It had called me to her. She’d played with light shining out of her. It was nothing like the reserved Christine in rehearsals. It was as if my life had returned to me. Since the moment I’d first heard her play, I’d needed her with me to guide my music. That call of the music had guided my pen with a ferocity I hadn’t felt in years.
I neededher.
The back door exit was in sight when I stopped my retreat. I had to go back and talk to her.
“Devlin, ah, there you are,” a voice called out.
“Maestro,” I corrected.
The second I registered that it was Dick’s voice, I knew I wouldn’t be leaving. I looked longingly at my motorcycle waiting for me as the door closed again.
“Ah, yes. Maestro, I don’t suppose we could have a moment of your time before you run off again,” Dick said.
I turned to see the twitchy man make his approach. Speak of the devil. Wait, that was me. Speak of the thorn in my ass. His hands were clasped and his mustache twitched. As always, Andy was at his side. Richard Firmin and Andrew Gill were the co-presidents of the SOOK. They were the go-between the SOOK and the board of directors for this performing arts center, where we played and practiced. Nobody else called them Andy-Dick, but as they were a package deal, it was just easier.
I pulled my riding gloves into place, drawing out the action to avoid shaking hands. “I have an appointment.” It was with my piano, but Andy-Dick didn’t need to know that. “What do y’all need?” I didn’t bother putting my helmet on yet. I couldn’t risk my mask falling loose.
Andy pursed his tiny mouth. His red-rimmed eyes and pale hair contrasted in an alarming way—like a rat in a medical trial. “You’re required to come to the board meetings at least once a month per your contract. As you have missed the last two, we thought it best to catch you up.” His words came out rushed.
I turned fully toward him, crossing my arms. Andy stepped back slightly in synch with Dick. There were some benefits to my reputation.
“Five minutes,” I growled.
“Let’s go back to our office.” Dick glanced around as the musicians walked by chatting happily.
Damn, this was not going to be fun. For them. I tossed my leather coat over my shoulder. “Lead the way.”
Andy-Dick shared an office made of glass that sat over the lobby—I supposed so they could watch as the money came in droves every performance.
“Listen, Devlin—”
“Maestro,” I corrected. I didn’t follow their lead as they sat in office chairs.
Part of the baggage that came with being one of the youngest conductors at age thirty-six in the history of the SOOK was that some people often forgot how to address me. And with that omission came a lack of respect in general. I was done playing that game.
“Right.” Andy cleared his throat and began again. “Listen. We’ve been patient with the antics.” He gestured to my face. I blinked slowly back at him. “But the chair auditions? Really. The board will not be okay with that. They wanted to make the announcement to avoid just this sort of upset.”
“We know you’re talented,” Dick quickly cut in. “We’re honored that you chose our humble symphony to debut your newest composition. Truly.”
I tilted my head a fraction to acknowledge him. Good cop/bad cop was part of their whole routine.
